The land of milk and honey
is liquid again -
all rivers flowing, all
summer winds blowing, all
leaves green and fresh

if there is
a price for love, a price for your touch,
I'll gladly pay the Pharaoh,
I'll gladly be the crutch for
all his wise men and oracles,
all his wives and daughters and sons

I'll carry their burdens with joy,
every day, night for night,
spurned on by the promise of
your lips, your thighs,
your honeysuckle skin, your
rose colored hair, your
sun-kissed face, the spots dancing on your nose.

In the land of milk and honey
I found my worship in its rivers,
its seas of gold and pearl,
its lap that's filled with lilacs and rosehips,
and I will kiss you good morning until
the sun doesn't rise and
the stars don't shine and
the moon doesn't watch our prayers at night anymore.

“I love you” in its kaleidoscope dress dances
like sunshine upon the waves -
does it remind you of something?
Does it remind you of me, my love,
as I sit here and write and break my heart over
entertaining a fantasy;

For you to say my name, just once - just once -
to hear your gentle breath exclaim this personal ecstasy of mine,
this declaration of victory that yes, I am myself!
Finally, instantly -
just one word from your lips - this word - and the fever of
battle inside me rages,
the body ready to swim all seas and win all wars,
to tear up all earth just
for you -
to find you, my lover, yes,
to return to a home of you.
I promise I will, and forever more I shall,
in exchange for the sound of
your rose water perfumed voice
caressing the essence of my Self.

I could
spin this song forever
let it wash endlessly
through the streets of the world, just to
declare my love for you,
just to shout your name into the night
or sing it as gracefully as I could
to infect every heart and ear with my feeling,
this emotion that overpowers me,
makes me crumble, fall to my feet,
lift my voice to highest praise, a taste unfamiliar to my mouth;
praise does not come so easily to me as the blade to a throat.
So have I not done enough to prove myself to you?
Have I not given all my heart, and all my soul, too -

Still no word. No answer.
The hunger inside my heart throws me forward,
edges me closer to the abyss,
the forlorn nothing, the never-ending absence,
a loveless mist to swallow me forever,
and you, my only savior, looking on,
your face a stone-cold mask.
You don’t want to let me in.
Don’t take my hand - for I could pull you down with me,
couldn’t I, my love?
The only power I possess is destruction.
This fragile bird of ours,
I swallow it whole between gnashing teeth,
and snap the neck of delicacy with the careless tongue
of unrequited love.

And who am I, after all,
but covered in dirt and blood, kneeling
at the altar of your love,
begging for my life as if
all the wars and battles won
matter nothing now. Perhaps they don’t -
what good is honor to me if
you crush it with one bare foot?
What good are strength and death and victory if
I was never destined to succeed in the king’s battle -
the last stand my heart could take, only to
lose the fight?
I have died more viciously by the sharp cut of your cool shoulder,
my love,
than I have ever hurt at the hands of a thousand men.

I, warlike, once a God,
wounded and fallen, now,
collapsed without dignity at your feet,
pleading for mercy
and crying, with every sense of emotion,
“I love you.”

HOT WIND ON YOUR SKIN BURNS YOUR FACE BURNS YOUR EYES BURNS YOUR HANDS LIKE THE SAND BURNS YOUR FEET BURNS YOUR THIGHS YOUR BRAIN FRIES IN THE HEAT
AND YOU CANNOT STAND IT ANY LONGER PARCHED AND THIRSTY DYING OF THIRST NO WATER ANYWHERE NOT A DROP NOT EVEN TEARS OR SWEAT TO WET YOUR TONGUE NOTHING TO TOUCH YOUR THROAT LIKE THE MEMORIES OF HER OF HIM OF EVERYONE WHO EVER LOVED YOU ALL
THE MEN AND WOMEN YOU LET INTO YOUR BEDROOM ALL THE HANDS THAT TOUCHED YOU AND ALL THE LIPS THAT KISSED AND ALL THE TONGUES THAT LICKED THE SWEAT FROM YOUR SKIN THAT BURNED WITH LUST AND LONGING AND DESIRE UNBOUND AND NOW THE DESERT HOT AND EMPTY NO WATER TO BE FOUND NO TOUCH TO BE FELT NO SOUND TO BE HEARD ONLY SUN SUN SUN AND HEAT HEAT HEAT AND SAND SAND SAND NOTHING BUT THE GREAT BIG SKY SILENT AND BLUE
AND THE HEAPS OF SAND YELLOW BURNING SAND DUNES AND DUNES OF FINE GRAIN
JESUS WENT INTO THE DESERT AND MOSES WENT INTO THE DESERT AND YOU WENT INTO THE DESERT BUT YOU DID NOT FIND GOD HE IS NOT HERE HE IS ELSEWHERE ANYWHERE BUT HERE JESUS AND MOSES LIED THEY NEVER MET HIM THEY CAME HERE TO DIE AND LET THEIR EGOS PERISH AND IN THAT THEY DISCOVERED GOD DISCOVERED THEMSELVES DISCOVERED THEIR SOULS TO KNOW YOURSELF IS TO KNOW GOD MY FRIEND AND THERE IS NO GOD IN THE DESERT UNLESS YOU WANT TO CALL YOURSELF THE GOD OF YOUR OWN LIFE AND THE GOD OF YOUR OWN CREATING THE GOD OF YOUR OWN HEART AND MIND AND SOUL
AND YOU COME BACK CLEANSED THE DESERT NEVER LEAVES YOU YOU COME BACK CLEANSED AND READY AND GOOD AND GOD YOU COME BACK A GOD.

With the open gates of Babylon
the holy flood poured on and on
through frond-covered stone ways
on grieving Palm Sunday
and the ****** water endlessly rushed
as if turned to wine by Jesus's touch

we were his disciples but behaved like sinners
he walked on water as we took from the rich
the godless romans were quick to condemn us
thus Jesus was crucified for being a witch

they set our stakes ablaze in the night
the darkness enflamed by unholy light
covered our heads with white cotton hoods
and barefoot we stumbled through dusk-silenced woods
we could hear the flames crack like whips in the dark
as they reached for us who were blessed with death's mark.

the tide, a never-ending olive green
the advance made silently in
the pitch black night,
dark as the leather on their feet.

wading through the water
a muddy yellow tinged with blood
dripping like machine gun fire
opened fire in the jungle thicket

the river is full of them
treading panic water  to escape
treading on landmines -
little pots of death leaving crates,
cutting arms, legs, limbs gone,
lost in the panic water

soldiers in the river,
men in the panic water,
friends in the throes of death
clinging to each other,
kissing olive canvas with red lips
"Tell my girl I love her if I don't make it back!"
holding each other while holding their breath
listening, listening for the next agent to fall
like rain

and orange the rain on viet cong,
the american hatred dropping like bombs,
on ferns and palm trees losing their green
on children losing their voices from all the screaming and crying
their fathers tired of fighting and hanging loose
like landmine limbs,
in the reeds by the river,
waiting for death.

under a blood red moon
the sea is calling
screaming, roaring,
for me to drown

to run into the cruel dark waves
let them overcome me
flush through my insides
and I won't fight, I'll
lose the war willingly
surrender to the deep black sea

ice-cold and merciless
a soul-crushing mistress
devastating, relentless
it almost feels like loving
her

San Francisco, 1977
I sat by my window and listened
to the crying of Carlos Santana and the wind
His guitar told stories
of home in México and how he yearned for it
and the wind kept howling along
as if it tried to bring him back
and I wished for Carlos to be home
and I wished for the wind to carry him there
and I wished for myself to be somewhere else
where the city isn't as big
and the people aren't as greedy
and the love comes naturally, not for fifty bucks a night

So I sat by my window
and listened to the sound of Santana's guitar
and the wind crying
and I understood
as I wept along.